


Orange Orange orange?

by blipblopblork



Category: Chuck (TV), Psych
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blipblopblork/pseuds/blipblopblork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all begins when Shawn pays a visit to Sarah at the Orange Orange...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bell above the door tinkled quietly as Shawn Spencer sauntered lazily into the Orange Orange.

"Do you guys have any flavors besides orange, or should I say, Orange Orange orange, since this is the Orange Orange?" he asked, smiling up at the pretty blonde girl behind the counter.

"Well, we do have vanilla, and of course for a mere 25 cents each you can choose from our wide selection of 21 different toppings." Beneath her forced smile, the girl looked bored, as though she had repeated the answer to this question thousands of times before.

"Hmm... I'll have the vanilla with pineapple chunks. Actually, make it pineapple chunks with a little vanilla. Orange you glad I didn't say orange again?" Shawn was determined to get a real smile out of this girl - not just the cheesy how-may-I-help-you-please-shoot-me-now-so-I-can-get-out-of-here smile that the girl - Sarah, according to her nametag - currently had plastered across her face. And as an expert at reading faces, Shawn had no trouble telling the difference.

"Now, Sarah, today may just be your lucky day. You see, I'm a psychic and I'm sensing..." Shawn put his fingers to his temple and struck his classic 'sensing' pose and quickly gave the room, and Sarah, a once-over "...that there is more to you than meets the eye. You're not just the pretty face behind the counter, once you leave this place you're somebody, you're somebody else entirely..." Shawn had a lot of tricks he used when playing psychic, but flattery was one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Except right now, this trick wasn't working. Sarah wasn't smiling, not the fake smile nor a real one. Thoughts raced through her head - who was this man? She didn't believe in psychics, of course - but was this a setup, a trap, a warning? And from whom? She made a mental note to go through the security footage and run a background check on this guy as soon as she was able to get down to Castle. If she was able to get down to Castle.

Shawn could sense that Sarah was unhappy, but of course he had not the slightest idea why, and so, as is his way, he continued to babble on. "...I sense that maybe you don't like who you are outside the Orange Orange. This place makes you feel happy. Safe..." Shawn didn't know where he was going with this - it certainly wasn't going to get him laid, but the feelings he was reading off this girl, the expression in her eyes, the sad fake smile... how could he not tell her what he saw? Shawn's psychic abilities may have been false, but that didn't mean he didn't have a gift. He just wanted to make this girl's day a little brighter, somehow, some way, and he didn't understand why he was failing.

And now for the wrap-up. "Anyways, I'm also sensing..." Shawn paused for dramatic flair. "...dinner. Oh, and a movie. And I'm there, and there's a girl. She's tall. Blonde. Beautiful. Wait, wait, I'm getting a name... Charah, Lara, Mara... Sarah! Oh, of course, silly me. It's you! So, pick you up tonight at 7?"

For the first time, Sarah took in Shawn and wondered whether there was a possibility that he wasn't a threat, but just some goofball trying to pick her up. But those things he'd said, about her being someone else... that was too close to the truth for comfort. Sarah needed to find out the truth, and so she quickly made her decision. She would go on the date, but armed, and with backup.

"Okay. And I assume you'll know where to find me, Mr. Psychic?"

"Indeed I do. See you tonight!"

And with that, Shawn was out the door. Sarah quickly pocketed the credit card receipt and headed down into Castle, where she would spend the next ten minutes running a fruitless background check on one Mr. Burton Guster.


	2. Chapter 2

"Casey, we have a situation."

"What kind of situation?"

"Well, I'm not sure exactly. This guy, he showed up at the Orange Orange, and well, he knew things about me. Things that he shouldn't know."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No, he uh, asked me out. Anyways, we're not picking up any matches with the facial recognition software, and running a check on the name on his credit card turned up nothing. But then again, if this guy was dangerous, he probably wouldn't just hand us his real name on a platter like that."

"Did you notify the General?"

"Yes. She agreed with my decision."

"Which was?"

"Go on the date, but bring Chuck along somehow and see if he flashes on anything. And you get to hang around in the van again in case things get ugly."

"Lucky me. You know that's my idea of a fun Friday night." Casey's voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was actually a kernel of truth in that statement. Casey enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the excitement of stalking and catching his prey. It sure beat sitting at home and watching TV alone, or worse, monitoring Chuck's bedroom via hidden camera.

Sarah just smiled, a real smile this time, and left to go pull Chuck out of work at the Buy More.

\--------

A couple hundred meters above them and to the left, Shawn was talking rapidly on his forest green iPhone as he paced around the BuyMore.

"Sorry Gus, I'm not going to be back in time to watch American Duos with you. You know the saying, hos before bros, right?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."

"I've heard it both ways. Anyways, I was on the way back from visiting Uncle Jack in Pasadena... you know he has a place out here now? So on my way back I decided to stop off for some froyo... can you believe they only have two different types, orange and vanilla? No pineapple! Clearly the people of Burbank aren't fans of delicious flavor. Now as I was saying, I have a date tonight."

"I'm sorry Shawn, you lost me at froyo. What's a froyo and what does this have to do with you having a date tonight?"

"Froyo, my friend, is a delicious concoction - yogurt chilled to the 32nd degree. As for the date, I used my psychic charms on the girl behind the counter."

"So you're going to just hang around in Burbank for the rest of the day so you can go on a date with a frozen yogurt chick you'll probably never see again?"

"Trust me, if you saw her, you'd understand..." Shawn's voice trailed off. Sarah had just entered the BuyMore. That was odd, the schedule behind the counter at the Orange Orange had said her shift didn't end until 7. Maybe she was on break? Shawn watched as Sarah approached an employee, grabbed his hand and whispered something in his ear, and then the two of them exited the store together.

"Shawn. Shawn! You still there?"

"Yeah. But I think my date tonight already has a boyfriend. Something's up, man."

"So I'll see you tonight for American Duos?"

"Don't be a silly gussyface. She'll be waiting for me tonight at 7. Can't let the lady down. Besides, there's something mysterious about her..."

"Fine, I get it - I'll Tivo the show for you. See you later." And with a click, Gus was gone, and Shawn was left to kill time at the BuyMore until 7, which he did by performing psychic readings for all of the sales associates and members of the Nerd Herd... all of them, except for the tall one with the grey tie and the muscular one in the green shirt that had disappeared earlier that afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

"Good evening, milady." Shawn smiled and proffered a gift towards Sarah.

"You bought me... RAM?"

"A USB Flash drive, for all of your portable data needs. Everybody's using them these days. I would've brought flowers, but apparently they don't sell them at the BuyMore, and I'm not from around these parts, so this will have to do. You know, they don't sell pineapples either. Though they do have cheezy poofs. But you didn't seem like a cheezy poof kind of girl..."

"Who are you and what do you want?" Shawn heard a hint of malice in her voice and didn't like it, so he chose to ignore it.

"Sorry, I guess I never did introduce myself earlier. The name's Shawn Spencer..." He extended his hand, she didn't take it.

"Anyways, where are the good places to chow down around here?" He dropped his hand reluctantly. This girl had agreed to a date with him, and yet she was acting colder than the yogurt she served. Maybe she was afraid of getting hurt? No, that wasn't it. Shawn sensed something that wasn't quite fear, but more... mistrust. And honestly, he couldn't blame her - if someone had walked up to Shawn asking for a date after claiming to be a psychic, he wouldn't believe him either. He suspected that Sarah had agreed to come with him mostly out of curiosity, and on that count he was right - though her curiosity was of a much darker nature than he might have guessed.

Sarah thought for a minute, then looked up and forced another smile.

"Well, I hear there's a place in Chinatown that supposedly has great sizzling shrimp. A friend recommended it, wanna check it out?" Sarah was careful not to mention the name of the restaurant, on the off chance that she wasn't the only one wearing a bug that night. She knew that Chuck and Casey would know exactly where she meant.

\------

Back in the van, Chuck and Casey were watching Sarah and Shawn's every move as recorded by the three hidden cameras positioned in the ceiling of the Orange Orange (the one hidden in the yogurt machine was proving rather useless, though it did afford Chuck a nice view of Sarah's behind).

"Chuck, are you getting a flash on this guy?" Casey growled.

"Actually, I don't need to."

"What? What do you mean you don't need to?" Casey was shocked. Outside, as Sarah listened in on her earbud, she expertly maintained her composure despite her surprise.

"That's Chad, from Explosión Gigante de Romance."

\------

"So, you ever been on a bike before?" Shawn gestured to the black motorbike double parked towards the front of the near-empty lot. If this was a setup, this had to be the most outrageous cover story ever, Sarah thought to herself.

"Yes, actually. I'm something of a biker myself. Say, how do you feel about letting me drive?" There was no way in hell Sarah was getting on the back of the bike of a strange man she had only met that afternoon. Who knew where he would take her? And besides, she knew the way to the restaurant.

As Shawn climbed onto the bike behind Sarah, he noticed a subtle but oddly shaped lump where Sarah's blouse met her skirt. Shawn shuddered as he realized that this could only mean one of two things. Either this girl was packing some really strange junk in her trunk, or she was armed.


	4. Chapter 4

As Shawn and Sarah biked off into the night, both wary of each other's secrets but not yet ready for a confrontation, Sarah heard her earbud crackle to life.

"Walker, I ran a check on this Shawn Spencer character. It appears to be his real name, either that or he's been using this identity for a really long time. For the past thirteen years he's been touring the country doing various odd jobs. Never stays in one place for too long, but he also hasn't been making any attempts to slip under the radar. Seems our boy likes to get himself noticed - he's had two television gigs, is listed as a foot and ankle model, spearheaded a political campaign in Texas, and most recently he's set up shop as a 'psychic detective' in his alleged hometown of Santa Barbara. Seems he's finally settled down for the first time in his life."

Sarah pondered what such a history could possibly mean. Was Shawn on the run? If so, he was practically teasing his assailant, what with all of his high-profile escapades. And then Sarah had a second, more worrying thought. Despite the nature of some of his activities, Shawn's resumé seemed strangely familiar... it sort of reminded Sarah of her own.

Could it be? Sarah had spent her career hopping from cover job to cover job - she had woken up with a new name in a new city practically every week. Operation Bartowski was the first time in years that she had been stationed in one place for more than a month or two. Shawn's history seemed eerily parallel.

"Casey, how long has Spencer been running this 'psychic detective agency'?" Sarah took advantage of the roar of the motorbike and prayed Spencer didn't hear her speak.

"Since July 2006. Almost three years now." Three years. That was how long Sarah had been Chuck's handler as part of Operation Bartowski. She hoped against hope that this was all just one big incredibly improbable coincidence, but she doubted it.

"SARAH, DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?" Her train of thought was broken as Shawn called out from behind her.

"I SAID, I HOPE YOU LIKE CHINESE FOOD." And with that, Sarah slowed the bike to a halt and hopped off after Shawn, ignoring his offer to help her down, and the unlikely pair entered the Bamboo Dragon restaurant together.

\-------

Shawn tried not to show how on edge he was as a petite Asian woman showed them to their table.

"So Sarah, tell me. What does a pretty girl like you like to do when she's not serving yogurt that's full of delicious flavor?"

"If you're really psychic, shouldn't you already know?"

"Touché." If Shawn wasn't slightly terrified of this girl, he might actually sort of like her. "I'm sensing that you're the adventurous type. You don't just park yourself in front of the TV screen when you get off work..." Spencer was going out on a limb here, but Sarah hadn't made any indication that she had recognized him from American Duos or his brief stint on a popular telenovela. "... and I'm sensing you do some kind of martial art?" Sarah's hands were not the delicate hands of a lady who served frozen yogurt all day - they were littered with small scars and calluses from repeatedly applying protective tape. A small scar above her left eyebrow confirmed his suspicions.

Sarah feigned a giggle. "Wow, you're really not messing with me. You actually are psychic."

"Do I look like I would lie to you?" Shawn looked up at Sarah with puppy-dog eyes.

Behind Sarah, Shawn watched as the waitstaff flitted expertly from table to table. To many guests, the members of this army of small Asian women would all look the same, with their matching black vests over crisp white shirts. But Shawn could easily pick out the differences: the one emptying off the table in the rear of the restaurant had small dimples framing her smile. The one pouring water at the table adjacent to theirs was wearing much more eye makeup than she needed to. The one who had delivered their menus was shy, with her hair practically covering her eyes. And the one who was approaching their table and would be their server for the evening... Shawn slowly looked up, taking in inch by inch the thin 6'4" figure that towered over him. Their server was neither petite, female, nor Asian. In fact, he was the same employee that he had seen Sarah with earlier at the Buy More.


	5. Chapter 5

Ni hao, wŏ de míngzi shì Chuck..." the man continued to babble on for a bit in what appeared to be Chinese, "that means, 'hi my name is Chuck and I'll be your server this evening. Can I start you with anything to drink?'"

"Showoff." Casey growled through Chuck's earbud. "Spare me the theatrics, have you flashed on anything yet?" Chuck had not flashed, not on Shawn nor on any of the other patrons of the restaurant, and the fact that he still had that ever-present goofy grin plastered across his face told Casey as much.

"Impressive. I'm sensing you didn't just memorize that for the job. You actually speak Chinese." Shawn said with respect in his voice. It was all Greek to him, but Shawn could recognize the inflections and speed of a native speaker when he heard one.

"Well, uh, I guess I do." Chuck shrugged in a manner suggesting that the words which had just come out of his mouth were as much a surprise to him as anyone else. "Wait, what do you mean by 'sensing'?"

Shawn stuck out his hand. "Shawn Spencer, head psychic for the SBPD. I'm also a foot model. 2005 Mode Winter Edition, page 98, fourth snow boot from the left, that's me!"

"Nice to meet you Shawn. And uh, I'm Chuck. Just Chuck. Well, Charles, but my friends call me Chuck. Anyways, can I start you guys with anything to drink?"

"One pineapple juice please."

"I'm sorry, I don't think we have pineapple juice. Anything else?" Chuck, of course, had no idea whether the Bamboo Dragon carried pineapple juice, but it wasn't his job to find out.

"Just water." piped up Sarah, who had been silent through this entire exchange.

"Alright, I'm on it." With that, Chuck scampered off into the bowels of the restaurant, allegedly to fetch their drinks.

\------

"Casey, I've got nothing. Not one little itty-bitty flash. Not on Shawn, not on any of the waitresses or any other guests, nothing!" Chuck whispered into his watch.

"Well, maybe he's clean. It's possible that this weirdo is exactly who he says he is - a drifter with one hell of a résumé. Just get them their food and keep your eyes open for anything fishy, so we can wrap this up and go home." Casey sighed. What a waste of an evening.

"Casey, is that disappointment I hear in your voice? Big, bad Casey is sad that he doesn't get to chase after any baddies tonight?" Chuck teased playfully over the intercom.

"Shut up, Bartowski."

So Chuck did. He bumbled through the rest of the evening, trying his best to remain inconspicuous despite being only white male server in a sea of Asian waitresses, and he somehow managed to only break two dishes - dishes which, unfortunately for Chuck, were not empty, though he would soon find that this was the least of his worries.

\------

Meanwhile, back at the table, Sarah was sipping her water alone, as Shawn had excused himself to use the "little boy's room." As soon as Sarah was out of earshot, Shawn pulled out his iPhone and called everybody's favorite pharmaceutical salesman.

"Hey Shawn, date over already?"

"No man, actually just getting started. But something's weird about her. You know that guy I saw her with at the Buy More? He's our waiter."

"What? I mean, that is a pretty big coincidence, but tons of people work two jobs, Shawn. You think she brought you to this restaurant because he works there?"

"I dunno, Gus. Something's up, and I can't quite put my finger on it. I don't think Sarah came on this date with me because she was attracted by my boyish charms and sculpted physique."

"Shawn, you don't have a sculpted... what are you saying?"

"Aw, I dunno. There's just something up with this girl. I'm sensing some serious disturbances in her aura."

"I know you're not psychic, Shawn. What aren't you telling me?"

"I think she has a knife."

"Whoa, there, Shawn. Please tell me you mean like a butter knife, or that you think it's kind of weird that you're in a Chinese restaurant and she can't use chopsticks so she asked for a knife. Please tell me that you don't mean a knife-knife."

"No, I'm pretty sure she has a knife-knife. Heh, that's kind of a funny word - knife-knife." Shawn let out a half-hearted giggle.

"Shawn, you need to get out of there. Now."

"But I haven't even had a chance to try the sizzling shrimp yet! Look, I don't want you to worry about me. I'll find out what she's up to, have a delicious dinner, and I'll see you at the Psych office tomorrow morning. Promise."

"Okay, Shawn. But I think you should at least call Lassiter and Juliet."

"Don't be a frumpy pumpkin, Gus. You know Burbank's out of their jurisdiction. Anyways, gotta head back now or Sarah will think I'm making a numero dos."

And with a click, Shawn was gone, leaving a very worried Gus alone staring up at a muted TV screen. Somehow, watching American Duos didn't seem so appealing anymore. Thank God for TiVo.


	6. Chapter 6

After Shawn made his way back to the table, the unlikely couple had a surprisingly uneventful dinner. No flashes were seen, no weapons were drawn, and only a few psychic observations were made, some of them more insightful than others.

"So, Sarah... tell me, what did you do before you worked at the Orange Orange?"

"Promise you won't laugh?" If she told him about her last mission off the coast of Argentina, he definitely wouldn't laugh - but then again, if she told him that, she'd have to kill him.

"Promise."

"Well, my most recent job was making hot dogs at the Wienerlicious."

"The Wienerlic..." Shawn started to giggle uncontrollably. "Wienerlicious!" More laughing. "I'm so sorry, it's just I was gearing myself up to make some kind of wisecrack about whatever you were about to tell me, but with a name like that, I really don't have to."

"Tell me about it." Sarah sighed.

"Say, this Wienerlicious wouldn't have happened to be located where the Orange Orange is now, would it?"

"How did you know that?" Was he feeling her out again? Teasing her? What did he know? Even though Casey and Chuck hadn't turned up anything useful, Sarah still had her suspicions.

"Psychic, remember?" Shawn flashed a winning smile. He could see in his mind's eye the outline of where the hotdog-shaped sign had been removed and plastered over with smaller lettering for the yogurt shop as clearly as if it were right in front of him.

Sarah poked uneasily at the remains of her meal.

"Right, of course." Sarah laughed. "You'll have to excuse me for being a bit of a skeptic, but how does all of this psychic stuff work, exactly?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. The spirit world works in mysterious ways. And apparently not at all during the Superbowl - I didn't get a single vibe or vision the entire time! I think the spirits were all too busy watching the game. Who knew football was so popular up there?"

"Wow, you really are something else." Just what, exactly, was the question that Sarah couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Here, let me do another demo. Garçon!" Chuck nearly lost his balance as he spun around to answer Shawn's call.

"Yes?" Chuck gingerly set down the full tray of dishes he was carrying.

"Your aura was distracting me." Shawn stood up, and began poking and prodding at the empty air surrounding Chuck. "There's something very... how do I put this? ...heavily charged, about it. I'm seeing sparks, connections! Keyboards and screens... you know your way around a computer, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Chuck smiled sheepishly.

"But wait, there's more. I'm sensing something else. More sparks, more connections... but different this time. You two..." Shawn looked at Sarah, then back at Chuck. "...you two have definitely met before."

"What? I've never seen her before in my life!" Chuck replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Ah, well. Must have been in a past life then." Shawn shrugged. Something was definitely going on with these two. "Anyways, can we get the check?"

"Sure thing." Chuck hurriedly handed over the bill, and then scampered to deliver the food he had been carrying to the next table over, who had now been waiting for some time. Shawn quickly grabbed for the check.

"Dinner's on me. Or rather, on my friend Gus." Shawn waved the borrowed credit card, looked up at Sarah's quizzical stare, and then shoved it back in his wallet. "Nah, I'm just kidding. I'm just holding onto this for him so he doesn't spend too much. He has a thing for pants, you see. Fancy pants." Shawn chortled to himself as he began dumping out the contents of his wallet onto the table, which resulted in a small mountain of small-denomination bills and coins, as well as a substantial pile of pocket lint and one very very tiny kazoo.

As Shawn began to count his change, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a dish crashing to the ground and shattering behind him. Chuck stood over it, startled, and then quickly continued to serve his customers again, using a particularly heavily laden dish to temporarily shield his face.

"Casey, this is Chuck. Do you hear me? I just flashed. I just flashed... on his money."

That was all Casey needed to hear. Within seconds he was at the window of the Bamboo Dragon with a long-range tranq gun aimed directly at Shawn Spencer's neck. The last thing Shawn heard before he blacked out was the sound of a second dish shattering into a million pieces.


	7. Chapter 7

Shawn had woken up next to plenty of strange women over the course of his lifetime, but never like this. As the world slowly blurred into focus, he began to take stock of his surroundings. His head was throbbing and his hands were bound tightly behind his back, restricting him to the cold chair in which he sat. Sarah and Chuck, if those were in fact their real names, were similarly bound in adjacent seats. "I knew they knew each other!", he thought to himself. Shawn was confused, and the pounding in his head wasn't making things any clearer. If they weren't responsible for this, then who was?

Sarah and Chuck were equally baffled. Both of them had been so focused on assessing whether Shawn was a threat that they had let the "janitor" who had slipped through the rear door of the Bamboo Dragon shortly before Shawn paid the bill go completely unnoticed. Shawn had unwittingly and unintentionally served as a decoy, making the trio prime targets for their assailant.

"Give me the list!" A large, burly man entered the room, slamming the very small door behind him. The sight would have been almost comical to Shawn, had he not been in so much pain.

"What list?" Sarah and Shawn cried simultaneously.

"We have no idea what you're talking about!" exclaimed Chuck. Chuck did, in fact, know exactly what the man was talking about – it was one of the perks of having all of the government's biggest secrets downloaded into your brain. But he couldn't show it, not just yet, and he had used the word 'we', so technically he hadn't been lying.

"I know one of you has it. Hand it over or I'll start using some… more persuasive methods, starting with the pretty one." The large man smiled maniacally as he brandished a small dagger. "Crap, that's my knife", thought Sarah.

"What, why me?" wailed Shawn.

"I meant the girl, idiot. But since you've so kindly volunteered yourself…" the man stepped closer to Shawn. Shawn had a feeling he knew where this was headed, and he didn't like it.

"Look, I know it was a handoff. Girls like her don't go out with guys like you. So one of you three has it and I want to know who…" the man tossed the knife from one hand to the other, "and I want to know now."

\---------

Outside the abandoned warehouse, Colonel John Casey crouched in the bushes, formulating a plan. Only half an hour earlier, he had watched through the window as this Shawn Spencer character had crumpled to the ground, followed quickly by Walker and Bartowski, all before he had even taken a shot. Casey was good, but not that good. It was impossible for Casey to see their assailant from his vantage point at the very tiny window, so he had hurriedly made for the nearest door, but by the time he entered the restaurant the trio was already gone. Outside, Casey had heard the screech of a car speeding out of the parking lot, and he had raced off into the night in hot pursuit. He prayed that the car he had tailed here was in fact the kidnapper's, and judging by where they had taken him, he had a feeling he was right.

"Damn it, Casey. How could you have let them out of your sight, even for an instant?" he chided himself. If he had been inside the restaurant the whole time, this never would have happened. He sighed as he recalled how Chuck had mocked him earlier. "Well, Chuck. I got to chase some 'baddies' tonight, happy now?" Casey had been hoping for some excitement, but not like this – not with his asset's life on the line.

His thoughts were broken by the sound of the cocking of a gun behind him. Casey spun around and raised his own weapon. Well, one of them. Like Agent Walker, Casey always carried a backup weapon. Or four. Casey watched as two figures slid out of the darkness, cornering him against the building.

"Drop your weapon and put your hands up. You are under arrest for the kidnapping of Shawn Spencer. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."


	8. Chapter 8

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Shawn had assessed the situation and decided to defend himself the only way he knew how, by talking out of his ass.

"And why wouldn't I?" The burly man took a step closer, still brandishing a knife.

Uh, because if I were you I'd be a very non-violent person who doesn't like knives or guns or those funny little stick things that you can twirl around and whack people with? thought Shawn. No, that wasn't going to cut it. And on second thought, nunchucks were kind of cool. Speaking of which, a pair of those might be useful right about now.

"Because he's psychic, and along with his psychic abilities, he also has telekinetic powers, and if you take a single step closer, we'll all be out of these model ELM74.1 handcuffs and he'll have that knife turned on you so fast you won't even know what hit you." All eyes were on Chuck as he did his best to direct a menacing stare towards their captor. God, I hope he knows where he's going with this. Sarah silently prayed.

The burly man was not convinced.

"Since when does the CIA employ psychics?" he growled.

"Since they found me." Shawn countered. CIA? Well, that explained a lot. Man, and all I wanted was some pineapple froyo.

"Okay, then, 'psychic'," the man growled "if you're so powerful, then why are you still sitting there cuffed?"

"Uh, duhhhh, big scary man with the knife. Can I call you that? Actually, on second thought, I think I'll call you Renaldo. It becomes you. Yes…" Shawn paused for dramatic flair, "Renaldo. So, Renaldo, to answer your question – you wouldn't think I would be so silly as to attack you now when my psychic senses are telling me you have backup? There are only so many pointy objects I can direct with my mind at once, you know."

The man was dumbfounded. He was no novice in taking prisoners, brave prisoners even, who refused to yield their secrets up until the very end, but this was the first time one of his prisoners had so openly mocked him.

"Unfortunately for you, you're not the only one with backup." All heads turned toward the door as it swung open dramatically. Standing at the door was none other than Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective of the SBPD, followed closely behind by Junior Detective Juliet O'Hara. Both had their guns drawn and ready to fire.

"Lassie, you came for me! I knew you loved me!" Shawn squealed. Lassiter ignored Shawn and kept his weapon trained on "Renaldo".

"Drop your weapon and put your hands up. You are under arrest for the kidnapping of Shawn Spencer, and uh, these other two victims…" Juliet's voiced trailed off. The large man had pocketed the dagger and raised two guns, one pointed at each detective. Crap, he got my guns too? Sarah sighed. We really need to start arming Chuck. This was turning out to be one hell of a date.

"So you want to play this game, huh? You shoot me, I shoot you. Or you put your guns down slowly and nobody gets hurt." As the man spoke, the small door opened a second time as five other men, also armed, rushed into the room.

"Not so fast." There was a loud crash as three sets of handcuffs clattered to the hard cement floor. Within seconds, Sarah was standing, her long blonde hair tumbling down over her shoulders as she pulled down the two very sharp ended kanzashi which had been supporting her up-do all night. Back-up weapons number three and four. "Did you really think these were just for show?" she smiled as she launched the two hairpins across the room, sticking their main captor in both hands and forcing him to drop his weapons. It was the first time that Shawn had seen Sarah truly smile all night.

"Wha- how did you…?" For a second, silence dropped over the room as everyone looked from Sarah to the wincing Ring agent and back again.

"I told you I was telekinetic. Wish you'd listened to me now, don't you, Renaldo?" Shawn grinned as he tried his best to imitate his friend Gus's patented 'I told you so' face, and the silence was broken just as suddenly as it had appeared. It was go time, and finally it seemed that Shawn, Chuck, and company just might have the upper hand, thanks to the element of surprise.

The room was suddenly a sea of flying fists and feet, with Sarah leading the attack and Lassiter and Juliet trying their best to keep up. For the first thirty-odd seconds, Chuck stood huddled in a corner and assumed his classic defensive pose, known to his friends as "the Morgan", all the while muttering quietly under his breath "Flash! Come on, Chuck. Flash!"

And then he did. A rapid stream of images flooded his senses – images very similar to the sight occurring right before his eyes, and suddenly, though not for the first time, Chuck was well versed in kung fu.

"Kyaaaaaaaaa!" With a roaring, albeit somewhat high-pitched battle cry, Chuck brought his own newly found talents into the mix. Shawn stood dumbfounded at the sight – these agents were good. And Lassie and Jules weren't exactly novices either, though their skills certainly weren't up to CIA standards. Shawn watched as Juliet landed a swift elbow jab into the face of one of the Ring agents, bloodying his nose and knocking him to the ground. Shawn had never seen Juliet engage in hand-to-hand combat before – and it was kind of, well, entrancing.

His thoughts were broken, along with what felt like his jawbone, as a fist flew up into his face before he even had time to react.

"Owww…" Nobody punched Shawn Spencer in the face and got away with it. Of course, that was mainly because the last time anyone had tried that, Juliet's ex-boyfriend had come out of nowhere with that giant metal thing – some kind of construction equipment or something. It didn't matter, Scott wasn't here to defend him now, and it was probably for the better - Shawn wouldn't have wanted his help anyways.

Shawn clawed at his attacker, but he was no match for the larger man, who was up and fighting again despite the bleeding puncture wounds in both hands. Damn it, Shawn. You just had to cut your nails yesterday, didn't you? Out of the corners of his vision he could see that the man Juliet had knocked to the ground was still down and she had moved on to a second assailant, while Lassiter, Chuck, and Sarah were each locked in combat with a Ring agent of their own. As the man backed Shawn towards the wall, he re-drew his dagger, and Shawn could see his own frightened expression reflected in the blade.

"So, psychic, where are your telekinetic powers now?" The man whom Shawn had dubbed Renaldo sneered.

Shawn knew he was on his own this time, what with everybody else preoccupied with their own assailants, and not Lassie, not Jules, not even Gus or that annoying guy Scott could save him now. As the knife came closer to his throat, he willed himself not to cry as he thought about all the things he still wanted to do with his life. He realized that he had never truly thanked Gus for always being there for him. That he had never told Juliet that he loved her. That he had never admitted to Lassiter that maybe, just maybe Shawn didn't think the head detective totally sucked at his job. And that was something Shawn would never admit, even to himself, unless he truly believed he was going to die.


	9. Chapter 9

Thud.

Shawn opened his eyes - he hadn't even realized that he'd had them closed – and tentatively surveyed the scene before him. The six enemy agents lay unconscious on the floor, with Renaldo lying directly at his feet. I really am telekinetic! he thought for a split second, eyes brightening with adolescent glee. Then he noticed the blunt trauma injury to the back of Renaldo's head, and the barrel of the gun that matched it, held high by a man with a bulletproof vest and a chiseled jawline who definitely hadn't been there before.

"You just saved my life, didn't you?" Shawn looked up at the man in awe. It was like Scott Seaver all over again, except this time Jules wasn't dating the handsome bastard. At least, she'd better not be. He looked over at Jules. Nope, she definitely didn't know this guy. Thank God.

The man merely grunted in reply, accompanied by what may have been a tiny nod.

Sarah, however, was less thankful.

"Casey, where the hell were you? What took you so long?" she demanded. She knew she should probably be glad that he had shown up at all, but to see him arrive after these amateurish cops – well, it was embarrassing.

"I'm sensing…" Shawn put one hand to his temple, the other was preoccupied with applying pressure to his aching jaw "… that he was a bit busy getting us out of these high-tech fancy schmancy handcuffs." In the aftermath of the attack, Shawn had noticed that the cuffs that had bound him were nothing like the ones he made a game of swiping from Lassiter at every available opportunity, which were of the regular lock-and-key variety. These were different, electronic or something, and since Shawn knew he wasn't telekinetic, they must have been triggered from the outside.

"That's right." Chuck continued. "ELM74.1 handcuffs. Electronic Locking Mechanism 74.1. They operate on a radio frequency – 74.1 Hz. I recognized them because they're in the…" Chuck's voice trailed off as he realized that he had just come dangerously close to revealing that he had the Intersect to a room full of complete strangers. "…the Complete Idiot's Guide to Being a Spy. I memorized it when I was a kid." Casey let out a low guttural laugh despite himself. If there was ever a target audience for a book like that, it was Bartowski.

"Is that true, Casey?"

"Yeah, I caught on pretty quick to the fact that Chuck's little speech back there was mostly for my benefit. I would've had you out sooner had these two idiots not tried to arrest me." Casey gestured toward Lassiter and Juliet, who had been silent throughout this entire exchange.

"Hey, watch who you're calling an idiot!" Lassiter glared, then turned to Shawn. "About that, though… when you're debriefed by Chief Vick, would you mind leaving out the part where we accidentally tried to arrest a CIA agent?"

"It's NSA." Casey growled. Yup, definitely idiots. The lot of them.

"Sure thing. Anything for you, Lassikins." Despite his cheerful demeanor, Shawn was visibly wincing with pain.

"Shawn, you're hurt. We should get you to a hospital." Juliet spoke up with audible concern.

"Actually, I can take a look at that for you." Chuck made his way over to Shawn. "I share a house with two doctors, I've picked up a few things over the years." he offered by way of explanation. He hoped that the Intersect contained more than just 'a few things' on medicine, like how to identify a broken bone, for instance. Fortunately, it did.

"You're lucky bro, you took a hard punch, but it looks like the bone's not broken, just bruised. You should ice it as soon as we get out of here to keep it from swelling." Bro? Where had that come from? It unnerved Chuck just how much he sounded like Captain Awesome when he was playing doctor.

"Thanks, man." Shawn tried to smile, but it hurt too much.

\---------

As Shawn stumbled into the back seat of Lassiter's Crown Victoria, he realized that there was one nagging question at the back of his mind which still hadn't been answered. Actually, there were a lot of questions, but only one which was really worth posing to Lassie and Jules.

"Hey guys…" Shawn mumbled as Juliet helped him into the car.

"Yes, Shawn?"

"How did you ever find me out here? I mean, I sensed that Gus ratted me out, but how did you track me to this warehouse?"

"Through good detective work, of course." replied Lassiter as he turned the key in the ignition. Juliet rolled her eyes.

"Actually, we got lucky. When Gus called us, he sounded pretty worried, so we figured you were probably up to no good. He remembered that your first call had been from Burbank, and you mentioned wanting to try something called 'sizzling shrimp.' It was a long shot but that was all we had to go on, so we Googled it." Lassiter sighed, the way O'Hara told it made things sound much less impressive.

"Turns out some guy named Morgan Grimes has a whole fan site dedicated to this stuff. Pointed us right to the Bamboo Dragon, and we tailed you from there." Lassiter cut back in.

"Anyways, the important thing is that you're safe now, Shawn." Juliet turned around to face him in the back seat of the car. "Shawn?"

But Shawn had not heard a word either detective said, curled up as he was in a slumbering ball in the rear of the Crown Vic.


	10. Chapter 10

Sunlight streamed through the window as Shawn leaned back into the soft cushions of the Psych office couch. An icepack rested on his chin and he held one hand up to his forehead, fingers splayed in a lazy version of his traditional psychic pose.

"…and now, because I'm sure you've been oh–so-curious about my adventures last night, I'm going to reveal everything that the spirits have imparted to me in their great wisdom and generosity!" Shawn glanced around the Psych office, making sure his audience was fully captive before he continued.

"It all began at the Orange Orange…" Shawn paused dramatically, projecting his voice loudly across the office. "Nay, scratch that. It began earlier yesterday morning when I went to visit my Uncle Jack. As you well know, my Uncle Jack has a long-held tradition of giving me a penny every time I come to visit – he's been doing it ever since I was a little boy. I remember the very first penny he ever gave me…" Shawn let out a wistful sigh.

"…but I wasn't completely honest yesterday, when I said that Uncle Jack had a place in Pasadena now. I mean, he does, but it's a very small place, and there's sort of a stark minimalist décor complemented with vertical iron accents." He stopped for a second to make sure his meaning was not lost. "He also has a lovely glass window by the telephone, but that pesky guard made me leave just as things were starting to get interesting."

Shawn recalled how the prison guard had pressed the small coin into his hand with a gruff 'This is from your Uncle Jack.' before turning on his heels and escorting the imprisoned Spencer back to his cell. Shawn had been surprised, on his past few visits the guards hadn't allowed Jack to give him anything, but there was a first time for everything, so Shawn had just shrugged and headed out toward the parking lot where his motorbike was, as usual, double parked. It there that he had noticed the tiny perforation in the coin, almost too small to be seen with the naked eye, and realized that this coin definitely wasn't from his Uncle Jack.

"Jack's not in a lot of trouble or anything, there was just sort of a… minor snafu with his latest treasure-hunting expedition. Anyways, I sensed immediately that there was more to the coin I received yesterday than meets the eye."

The small hole in the coin had just begged to be played with and examined in further detail, and after about half an hour of dwelling on this as he cruised down the Ventura Freeway, Shawn had decided that he couldn't take the suspense anymore and just had to buy something to pry the damned thing open. A short detour quickly brought him to the doors of the Burbank Buy More and adjacent Orange Orange, but faced with the choice of assuaging his curiosity or partaking in some delicious frozen yogurt, Shawn opted to start with the latter. It was there that Shawn had met Sarah, and not being one to pass up an opportunity to flirt with a beautiful waitress, Shawn had asked her to dinner – unwittingly procuring himself exactly the protection he would need for his now-inevitable encounter with the Ring.

"On my way back home, I encountered not one, but two CIA agents in a Burbank shopping complex. What's that…?" Shawn turned his eyes toward the ceiling, glancing up at imaginary spirits. "They were guarding something?" Shawn could see it now, the Orange Orange sign plastered over the outline where a neon hotdog had once perched, the one freezer in the yogurt shop that, while seemingly identical to the others, didn't have ice crusted along the bottom of the door, and the two agents – Chuck and Sarah – with their boring civilian cover jobs.

"Seems like you can do more than just buy things at the Buy More. I sense that something is hidden there... something that the government definitely doesn't want me to know about. Mental note: stock up on some more RAM next time I'm in Burbank." he added quietly. He then paused and glanced skyward again, his expression contorting from one of nonchalance to anger as he pretended to receive another 'vision'.

"Seriously, guys? You couldn't have told me that I was being followed before I got kidnapped and punched in the face?" Shawn shook a fist at the imaginary spirits, then looked back at his audience. "Apparently the bad guys were tailing me from the start. They followed me from the prison, waiting to see who I'd meet up with. Joke's on them, though, because the whole thing was one big coincidence. Oh, and now they're dead…" he added as an afterthought, "…or at least they'll probably wish they were after the CIA gets through with them. Man, those guys were hardcore." Shawn remembered Sarah and Chuck's combat skills with a bit of wistful awe, but his mind's eye quickly turned towards Juliet, the only one of the bunch who had taken out two Ring agents. Shawn made another mental note to ask her to teach him some of those moves, but it would have to wait until his entire body stopped aching.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for… the final wrap-up, the grand finale, the big reveal… the moment in which I, Shawn Spencer, psychic detective extraordinaire, will divine for you just what was so important about that super-secret spy penny that turned me into an unsuspecting money-mule…" Shawn was standing now, gesticulating wildly as he prepared to make his grand revelation – the moment that he had been waiting for with such anticipation, because to Shawn, this was one of the best parts of every case, and it was all his – all eyes on him, and people were forced to listen and let him, Shawn Spencer "psychic detective extraordinaire", be the center of attention. But instead, he was interrupted by the creak of a door and the sound of footsteps he knew all too well.


	11. Chapter 11

"Shawn! You're okay!" Gus looked at once both relieved and confused. "But I could've sworn I heard you talking to someone as I came in."

"Ah yes, I was just going over the details of my most recent escapades with Mr. Fribbles here." Shawn gestured to the Furby sitting wide-eyed on the opposite end of the couch.

"Mr. Fribbles?" Gus looked incredulously from Shawn to the Furby and back again.

"I see you two haven't been properly introduced. Mr. Fribbles, Burton McFloppypants. Burton McFloppypants, Mr. Fribbles."

"Shawn, I don't need to be introduced to a Furby. Why do you even have one of those things? They're creepy."

"Gus! That was very rude. How could you say something like that in front of Mr. Fribbles?"

"He's a Furby." Gus replied, as if that explained anything. "So are you gonna tell me what happened last night or what?"

"No can do, amigo. If I told you, they'd ship me off to Witness Protection so fast you wouldn't have time to spell 'aggiornamento'. Oh wait…" Ouch, that was a low blow. And on second thought, if Witness Protection gave him a shot with Jules like that Scott Seaver guy, maybe it was worth taking his chances. Shawn made yet a third mental note to tell Gus everything later… just not until teasing him with his secret knowledge started to get old.

"Shawn!" Shawn just smirked, wincing as he realized that his chin was still in a  _lot_  of pain.

"Hey Gus, 300 points says I can make this shot." Shawn pulled a crumpled and very miniscule scrap of paper out of his pocket and aimed it at the wastepaper bin. Gus looked at him skeptically. That thing was tiny and  _not_  aerodynamic. There was no way he could make that shot.

"You're on."

Swoosh. Leave it to Shawn to defy the laws of physics. Gus watched in astonishment as the tiny scrap of paper bounced off the rim of the basket and landed neatly in the bin.

"So, American Duos time?"

"You know that's right."

\---------

Deep beneath the Burbank Buy More, Chuck had just finished explaining to Sarah and Casey how he had flashed on one of the coins Shawn dumped onto the table, which was actually a covert storage device that could be opened up to reveal a hidden message. This particular coin had been used by the Ring to transport a list of potential locations where the Intersect and Operation Bartowski might be based. Chuck spun the empty coin idly on the Castle table.

"…it was probably encoded in a microchip inside the coin at one point. The coin was empty when I grabbed it at the restaurant, though."

"So it's still out there?" Sarah looked worried.

"Probably."

Little did they know, a crumpled and very tiny piece of paper sat at the bottom of a wastepaper bin in a Santa Barbara office with the following list scrawled across it in miniscule block print. The first five lines had been all but scribbled out:

~~_Paris, France_ ~~   
~~_Paris, TX_ ~~   
~~_Moscow, Russia_ ~~   
~~_Moscow, TX_ ~~   
~~_Los Angeles, CA_ ~~   
_Burbank, CA_

"We'd better call Beckman. But first, we should go over the audio capture from this morning." Casey growled angrily. That is, more angrily than usual. Casey always sounded at least a little bit angry.

"Why so glum, Casey? Are you seriously still jealous of that detective's car?" Chuck teased. Casey had been moody all morning, ever since he'd seen that idiot detective Lassiter drive off in a Crown Vic – the same model that Casey had driven happily until his stupid asset had gone and blown the damn thing up.

"No. I just can't believe you bugged a Furby, Bartowski. A Furby! What were you thinking? Are you insane?" Chuck just smiled.

"Come on Casey, let's hear what we got…"


End file.
